Lionhearted
by accidentalauthoress
Summary: A serious of one-shots involving the adventurous hunting life of Dean, Sam, and their little sister Jasmine. Stories will range from serious to funny to plenty of whump, humor, and fluffy sibling love. NO WINCEST. Submit suggestions for chapters. )
1. In the Beginning

Early in the morning one day, before the sun or even the birds were awake, two little boys were champing at the bit in a hospital waiting room. Anxiously, young Dean Winchester gnawed on his lower lip and warily eyed his younger brother. Sammy, by contrast, was trying his hardest to behave – and though he was succeeding at staying in his seat, that seat was bouncing and scooching around an awful lot.

"Boy or girl, Dean? Boy or girl?" Sam asked, chock full of energy even at the late hour.

"I bet it's a boy. Our family has a lot of boys," Dean reasoned. "Not that we need another one of you."

Sammy took a moment to pout before moving over towards Dean and wrapping his arms around him.

"I love you, Dean," he murmured in his soft voice, nestling into the crook of Dean's shoulder. Whenever Dean teased him, Sammy's immediate reaction was to smother Dean with love. Not only was he an incredibly affectionate little boy – he had also quickly learned that it was the quickest way to get Dean to stop.

"Dean, Sam," John said, appearing from around the corner. His eyes were rimmed with red, his hair was disheveled, and he looked exhausted. But unmistakably gracing his face was that characteristic Winchester pride. "Come with me, boys," he smiled.

Sam immediately leapt out of his chair and ran to John, reaching for his hand. Dean followed more slowly and cautiously, not sure what was going to await him beyond the next door. All he knew was that his life was going to change forever, and that he wasn't sure if he would like it. After all, things were great with their family as it was. Why did it need to change?

Their mother lay in a small bed, looking haggard and sleepy. But her eyes were glowing with joy, and her face lit up at the sight of her two sons.

"Dean! Sam!" She exclaimed, as though she hadn't seen them in years. "I have someone that I would like you to meet."

"Mommy! Sam yelled, racing towards the bed and receiving a kiss on the forehead in return. Dean followed soon after – nothing was going to keep him from his mother, not even his growing apprehension. His effort was rewarded with a swift kiss and a ruffle of his fluffy hair, at which he gave a toothless smile. Despite himself, he could feel his little heart start to overflow with love.

"Come take a look," Mary whispered, leaning towards the children. Wide-eyed and curious, her two young sons peered over the side of her hospital bed at the bundle of pink blankets in their mother's arms.

"Can I hold her?" Sam asked immediately. The little boy was bouncing on his heels, his eyes sparkling just like Christmas had come early. Ever since he had found out he was going to be a big brother, he hadn't stopped talking about it. He was overjoyed at having someone to take care of and teach and play with. Secretly, he hoped that the new baby would be more like him than Dean was.

"Of course. Come here, Sammy," his mother said, smiling. Sam climbed up into the hospital bed and snuggled in next to his mother as she transferred the sleeping newborn into his arms.

"Whoa," he said softly, caught up in wonder at the sight of his new baby sister. The baby was small, born three weeks early, but looked so large nestled into Sam's arms. She looked, already, just like her mother. Suddenly, she let out a soft snore, and Sam's heart melted. He giggled quietly and reached up to touch her face.

"I like her," Sam declared. "I like her a lot, Mommy. Do you wanna hold her, Dean?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean answered quickly. The older boy hung back a little, glancing down at the sleeping infant when he thought no one was watching. She was so small, so breakable. And the last thing he wanted was to mess something up.

"Dean, it's okay," Mary soothed softly. "You won't hurt her."

Ever since he could talk, Mary could read her elder son like a book.

And just like that, before he could protest, he was holding the baby. Instantly, she sighed and nestled deeper into his embrace. And just like that, Dean felt a sudden rush of affection and responsibility for the little creature. He was a big brother once again, and he would do anything it took to protect her and Sammy. Slowly, hesitantly, as though he might break her, Dean held up the baby and placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"What's her name?" Sammy asked excitedly.

"Jasmine Camille. Jasmine Camille Winchester," Mary beamed. For years, Mary had dreamed of a little girl named Jasmine. And even with Dean and Sam, who she loved dearly, it always felt like there was something missing. Finally, her little family was complete. With the future stretched out bright before them, she couldn't wait to begin the first day of the rest of her life.

"I'm your biggest brother, Jasmine, and I'll always protect you. So you can sleep easy…. Because I love you lots," Dean whispered, just quiet enough so that Sammy wouldn't hear and make fun of him.

"Always."


	2. I'm Here

Dean was sound asleep in his bed that October evening, snoring softly and dreaming of pumpkins and candy. He and Sammy had come home from trick-or-treating some hours before, and, despite the sugar coursing through their veins, they had both fallen asleep immediately.

That is, until now.

Sammy woke with a start, sitting up in his toddler bed. He could swear he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall, but that was impossible. Mommy's footsteps were far softer, and Daddy always slept like a rock through the night.

So Sam stumbled out of bed to investigate.

The hallway was dark and empty, the only sound to be heard his own breathing and the perpetual whir of the heating system. Bare feet padding down the cold wooden floor, Sammy trod closer to his baby sister's room. He wasn't sure why, but something in his little head seemed to be screaming at him to check on her.

Jasmine was awake in her crib, babbling and cooing as usual.

"Hi, Jazza," said Sammy, smiling as he approached the smiling infant. It was then that he remembered that he hadn't given her a good night kiss – the ritual was sacred in their family at that time. Because he was too short to reach, Sam pulled over a stack of stuffed toys and used them to boost himself up and into Jasmine's crib. After he delivered his kiss, he decided to lie there until she fell asleep. Something about her brothers always seemed to calm down Jasmine, and tonight was no exception. Sammy laid there with her, half asleep, until he heard it.

"There you are," a voice growled.

Sam's bright eyes shot open, and he let out a terrified scream at the sight of the yellow-eyed demon above him. Before he knew it, a strong taste was filling his mouth and blood was running down his lower lip. Sensing his distress, Jasmine started crying as well.

"Oh, hush. Hush, baby," the voice said, cruelly. Before he could make another move, Mary ran in, her eyes wild and searching.

"Mommy!" Sammy screamed. The room became a cacophony of noise, rising to a crescendo as Mary rose to the ceiling and was engulfed in a raging fire.

All of the sudden, Sam's world went black.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Across the house, John and Dean awoke to the screams and hit the ground running. Like father, like son, the two raced into Jasmine's room just in time to witness the horror. While Dean stood for a moment in shock and terror, John was across the room and at the crib in one stride. Sam lay there, unconscious, blood still dripping from his open mouth. Jasmine was alert and afraid, screaming at the top of her lungs. John scooped both up, shielding them from the growing fire.

"Get them outside!" John screamed, thrusting the two precious bundles into Dean's arms. Dean stood there, frozen, looking down at his unconscious brother in fear. "GO! NOW!" John bellowed. And because he never disobeyed his father, Dean charged out of the house as fast as he could. On the grass outside, he stumbled and fell to the ground with his two little siblings.

"I'm here," he panted, out of breath, trying to comfort them as much as himself. "I'm right here."


	3. Watching Over Me

"Dean?" Five-year-old Jasmine asked one warm spring day. She and her oldest brother had a rare moment of peace, and the pair were taking advantage of the weather and sitting outside in the grass watching clouds.

"Yeah, kid?" Young Dean replied, already sounding far older than his years.

"What happened to our Mommy?"

The question as innocent enough, coming from the cute little girl. But Dean's blood immediately ran cold. As bad as John knew it was, he had never had the courage to breach the topic with his kids. He liked to pretend that they hadn't seen the horrible things that they had. And even though Sammy was still so young, the images would stay with him forever. Jasmine, however, knew nothing of what had happened that night. Following his example, Dean never spoke a word about it.

"Don't ask, Jazza," Dean replied gruffly. He scooted away from his little sister and crossed his arms and legs, trying desperately to communicate to the young child that he wanted nothing more to do with the conversation.

"But Dean," Jasmine pressed, creeping closer.

"No buts!" Dean snapped. He could feel dread welling up in his stomach and tears pricking at his eyes. He didn't want to talk about his mother, and he was pretty damn sure that he never would. Jasmine's face changed in what seemed like slow motion. Her curious smile disappeared and her eyes widened in hurt and sorrow. She stood up and ran back towards the shoddy motel they were staying in, the kind of motel no little child should see.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Inside, a much less abrasive Sammy was cuddled up on the bed next to a sobbing Jasmine, trying to comfort her.

It wasn't going well.

"Why won't anyone tell me anything?" She cried, her small face growing redder and wetter with tears.

"Because you're not old enough, Jazza," John replied easily. He walked through the motel door and slammed it shut, bloodied up and sweaty. He had never known how to relate to his daughter, although he tried his hardest. Above all else, he was terrified of having her involved in the hunting life like his boys.

"I am, I am!" Jasmine yelled, frustrated that she was being kept in the dark.

"What's really wrong, kiddo?" John asked finally, crossing the room to sit next to Jasmine on the bed before even tending his own wounds.

Dean walked in the door just in time to hear his baby sister whimper, "Dean doesn't like me anymore." His heart shattered into a million pieces as a wave of crushing guilt washed over him. John shot Dean a look that could've killed a man. _You're supposed to look out for these two. You're supposed to care for them_ , it seemed to say.

"She made me mad," Dean replied lamely.

"That's nice," John snapped.

"I'm sorry," Dean murmured, as much to John as to Jasmine. He felt as though he had let everyone down. Even as a young pre-teen, Dean's perpetually guilty conscience was well established.

"Well, you'd better fix it while I fix myself," John replied, standing with a wince and heading towards the bathroom to clean himself up.

As Dean approached the bed where his two younger siblings lay, Jasmine burrowed under the blankets and Sammy looked at him with sad, disappointed eyes.

"Jazzy, I'm sorry," Dean started quietly. He gently crawled up onto the bed, directing his words towards the ball of blankets in the middle of the bed. At his apology, two blue eyes peeked out at him from the safety of under the covers. "I don't want to talk about…. About Mom, though. It's not because you're too young. And it's not because I don't like you. It's because I'm not strong enough to do that just yet."

"Really?" Jasmine asked, uncovering the entirety of her head. Her hair was mussed up from her trip under the covers, and Dean smiled and smoothed it back into place. "It's not me?"

"No. I will always like you, you're family. And family is the most important thing," Dean said, echoing exactly what his father had told him time after time.

"Okay," Jasmine forgave easily, giving Dean a small, still tearful smile. Dean, in turn, leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead protectively. Sammy, still sitting quietly and patiently, took the opportunity to lean over and put his forehead next to Dean's face, silently asking for a forehead kiss. Dean stuck his fingers through Sam's fluffy locks and mussed up his hair instead.

Walking out of the bathroom somewhat less bloody, John Winchester looked at the scene on the bed with a smile. "Your mom would be proud," he whispered.


	4. Submerged

The Winchester siblings' first hunt together happened at ages sixteen, nineteen, and twenty-three, approximately ten years too late for Jasmine and at least ten years too early for Dean and Sam. Hell, if they had had their way, it might've never happened. But by the time Jasmine reached sixteen, they couldn't tell her no anymore. Her headstrong streak was fully formed, and going on a hunt was all she had asked for at every birthday since she was eight. She had finally overpowered their defenses and gotten her way, and as much as Dean tried to avoid showing emotions, the idea of this hunt had him scared. Not only did he have to worry about Sammy, but now he had to look after newbie Jazz and swallow all of the worries about his baby sister getting hurt.

The three were after a water spirit, inhabiting a small lake town in the middle of nowhere. By the time they arrived, it had claimed three lives in the icy depths of the lake, and showed no sign of stopping. It was late November in Wisconsin, and the air was frigid that morning as they went about questioning the town's residents. After deciding to check out the scene of the crimes, so to speak, they walked out on the dock towards the lake. As they did so, the air seemed to drop another five degrees. Close to the shore, sheets of ice had started to form on top of the water. Further out, the water remained flowing, eerily dark and placid.

Everything seemed to have been going fine.

And then all of the sudden, Jasmine was gone. They'd been on the dock a solid five minutes, and the spirit had her in its grip. One second, she was standing behind Sam and Dean. The next, they heard a soft splash behind them and their hearts sank in unison. Dean froze. For the first time during a hunt – hell, for the first time in his life – he froze. His breath caught in his throat, and every thought seemed to stop in his head.

And then, after what felt like a year, he heard the second splash.

As he watched Sammy's body dive into the water, he snapped back into action. His muscles tensed, ready to jump in after both of his siblings. At the best, he would save them. At the worst, they would leave this world together. But before he could toss off his jacket and leap into the frigid water, he heard his father's voice in the back of his head.

 _Stay put, Dean. We don't need three of you in the water. Give Sammy a chance._

The distraction made him pause for just long enough for Sam to pull through – by the time Dean shook John's voice out of his head, Sam had popped back up above water. He was cradling Jasmine's limp head against his shoulder, and even from Dean's vantage point, he could see her blue lips and pale skin. In an instant, Dean was leaning off the dock, reaching out for his sister though she and Sam were still at least ten yards out.

"Is she breathing?" Dean yelled, terrified of the answer. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, the sound of blood pounding strong in his ears. As much as he expected the answer, nothing could have prepared him for it.

"I don't think so," Sam called back, gasping for breath. As soon as he got close, he handed Jasmine up to Dean and hauled himself out of the water. Soaked to the bone, he was exhausted and frigid, but felt nothing.

As both boys knelt over their baby sister, Dean checked for her breath. As soon as he was sure there was none, he launched into chest compressions. Without a word, Sam prepared himself for the respiration.

"Breathe, Jazz, breathe for me," Sam murmured through chattering teeth. His voice was soft, gentle, and broken, in complete contrast to Dean's harsh ranting.

"Don't do this to me, dammit, I need you. Goddammit, I need you, you can't leave us, breathe, dammit," Dean growled as he worked over his sister, cringing at the cracking of her ribs under his compressive force.

The next few minutes – what would be the longest of the boys' lives - passed agonizingly slowly. And then, the sweetest sound either had ever heard; their little sister's hacking cough as she started to choke and gasp for breath.

"Thank god," Sam breathed.

"Thank god, or Poseidon, or Anubis, or whoever the hell's listening," Dean affirmed, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. He turned Jasmine onto her side as she desperately coughed up lake water. Instinctively, he kept one protective hand on her shoulder and rubbed her back gently with the other. The young girl started to shiver as she laid on the dock, wet hair plastered to her face, breath ragged and shallow. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, glassy and afraid.

"Jazz, it's okay. We're here, we've got you," Sam soothed immediately. "Let's get you somewhere warm and safe."

At that, Dean got to his feet, then took off his jacket and wrapped Sam in it. After all, Sam's shaking hadn't exactly gone unnoticed – and while Jasmine was breathing on her own, neither she nor Sam was out of the woods. Dean handed Sam the keys, then gingerly lifted Jasmine into his arms.

"Stay awake for me, kiddo. Let me see those pretty eyes," Dean instructed as he cradled Jasmine's small body. Her eyes – Mary's eyes – had slipped closed again, causing tendrils of worry to wind themselves through Dean's gut. In seconds, he had Jasmine rushed to the Impala and laid her across the backseat. A pang of fear hit his gut when he realized that his left hand was wet and sticky, and he glanced down to see it covered in Jasmine's blood.

Not pausing to think, Dean gritted his teeth, cranked up the heat, and rushed back to the motel. The entire way back, despite his pleas, Jasmine did not wake. Even Sam had started to grow quiet and lose awareness of his surroundings.

Once they reached their motel – a half decent one, for once - Dean leapt out of the Impala and wrapped Jasmine up in his arms. He rushed around to the passenger side, yanked Sam's door open, and nudged Sam with his foot until he got to his feet. Fumbling to lock the car and retrieve the motel keys, Dean grew dismayed as he watched Sam stumble towards the door. The effects of hypothermia must have begun to set in on him and Jasmine.

The next few minutes were a blur as Dean lowered Jasmine onto one of the beds, guided Sam onto the other side, and moved them close together as if they were dolls. They needed what little body heat they could share. Then, moving like lightning, Dean grabbed the first aid kit and the closest handful of clothes he could grab before throwing himself down on the bed between the hypothermic pair.

"You've gotta wake up for me, sweetheart," Dean said to Jasmine. "And you too, Bigfoot."

By this time, neither would stir.

"Alright, great. Looks like we're doing this the hard way," Dean said to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled off Jasmine's shirt and jeans, then slipped her into one of his t-shirts and a pair of his pajama pants. He did the same to Sam, smiling despite himself as he saw how his pajama pants looked like capris on his giant brother.

"Sorry, guys, it was the fastest thing I could grab," he explained quietly as he returned to Jasmine, pulling up the shirt slightly to expose the wound on her abdomen. She had a three inch gash from the spirit (or at least, Dean assumed) that was bleeding quite a bit.

"This is going to hurt, baby girl," he warned, should the pain wake Jasmine. Then, into the cut went the peroxide and into her flesh went the stitches. Luckily, Dean had grown adept at stitching himself and Sam back together over the years. It had grown to be second nature, so much so that he could usually get it done before Sam got a chance to start complaining.

Still, neither sibling stirred, and Dean continued his ongoing dialogue of internal screaming. His mind frazzled with fear, he did the only thing he could think of. Dean changed out of his dampened clothes into a third set of pajamas and nestled in between his sibling-sicles. As he reluctantly snuggled both against him, he made sure to check Sam over for injuries. As best as he could tell, Sam and Jasmine would be okay.

They just had to wake up, dammit.

Sam was first to wake, nearly ten minutes later, stirring and kicking his feet out of the covers. His skin was warm to the touch, and his eyes, once they opened, were clear once more. In a second, he was sitting up and looking down at Dean and Jasmine, his face an expression of terror.

"Jazzy," he gasped. "Is she…?"

Before Dean could say a word, Jasmine raised a weak hand into a thumbs-up. Both boys broke into relieved grins. After another moment, Jasmine brushed the wet hair out of her face and shifted to look at her brothers.

"I was going to make a joke," she started, voice raw. "But it hurts to talk and I just want both of you to know that I love you."

As much as Dean hated feelings, he didn't hesitate this time when he said, "I love you too, kiddo. And even you, Gigantor."

"Me too," Sam reciprocated. "But don't scare me like that again, Jazzy. I can't lose you."

"Seconded," Dean muttered under his breath.

"Trust me, it wasn't exactly fun for me either," Jasmine retorted weakly.

After a moment to breathe, Dean switched back into mother mode, and insisted that his siblings drink some water and get some rest. And, as soon as he was sure each was asleep, Dean continued his secret sleepytime ritual of placing a kiss on each of their foreheads.

Under the fluffy hair, of course.

Their first hunt had been everything out of Dean's worst nightmares, and he hated himself for freezing. But they were all still here. They had survived, and Dean had managed to tend to both of them. For once, he started to have some sense that things would be okay.

And no matter what, their first hunt together sure made a hell of a story.


End file.
